


Rest Stop

by puckity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Humor, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, interrupted masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-25
Updated: 2007-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1909218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puckity/pseuds/puckity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam’s bathroom break runs a bit too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest Stop

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2007; canon and spoilers through Season Two.
> 
> Beta'd by the amazing Amber and Rachel.
> 
> You can also follow me on [Tumblr](http://puckity.tumblr.com/).

“Dude, just hold it. We don’t have that much farther to go.”

“Dean, I can’t hold it anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve been holding it for two hours! I’ve been holding it for the last 40 miles since you said that we were almost there. I’ve been holding it since you forced me to drink the rest of your Big Gulp because you won’t get goddamn cup holders installed and you didn’t want to spill Mr. Pibb on your precious upholstery. And I would keep holding it if I actually believed that we were anywhere near almost there. But guess what? I don’t believe you, because you are a liar. So pull over.”

“Okay, first of all I’m not a liar. Second of all, no one forced you to chug Pibb. Third of all—”

“Dean, I swear to God if you don’t pull off at this rest stop Mr. Pibb on your seat is going to be the least of your problems.”

“Fine! Fine. Just…you know…don’t leak or anything before I park.”

“Jesus, will you just shut up and stop the car already!”

The Impala screeched sharply as Dean ground down on the break peddle, silently apologizing to his baby for abusing her like this. But desperate times, and all that.

The car’s frame shuddered as Sam slammed the door and bolted for the bathroom, in that kind of half-jogging half-limping way that indicated his bladder was dangerously close to shutting down. Dean would have yelled at him to be gentle if he didn’t think it would have earned him a kick in the passenger side-door when Sammy finished up in there. And he really didn’t feel like buffing out the scuff marks tonight.

Scanning the parking lot, Dean noted the conspicuous lack of truck rigs and over-packed minivans that usually infested places like this. It was late, but that didn’t normally matter with rest stops. Instinctively, Dean listed off paranormal possibilities for the creepy lack of activity. Cursed land, demonic portals, the angry spirit of a former janitor…that his brain reflexively formed these conclusions was unnerving, even to him. How long had he and Sam been working without a break? How many cases had they taken without a second thought? When was the last time—

Dean caught himself. Since their dad had died, he and Sammy hadn’t shared a dingy motel bed. It wasn’t like it happened all that much before, but now they both acted like it never had happened at all. Dean couldn’t remember when it started. What he could remember was Sammy snuggling a little too close to him one night when it used to be one bed for Dad and one for the boys, close enough for Dean to realize just how much his baby brother’s teenage body had grown up. And he remembered odd little things, like how Sammy’s unkempt hair tickled his cheeks and how he’d been so jealous when—after asking him if he was going to be his first kiss—Sammy told him that he’d already kissed some tomboy girl who saw visions of her dead aunt in Tennessee.

It was never something they talked about; it was just understood. But not since their dad died. Everything had been off since then, and Dean couldn’t talk to Sam about it. For the first time in his life he really felt like he’d lost the last person he could tell anything to. But, Dean shook himself, there was no use crying over split milk.

Suddenly aware that—for someone who had to piss so badly—Sam was taking an awful long time in that bathroom, every nerve in Dean’s body sizzled. Maybe whatever it was, the evil guardian of the rest stop, had taken his brother prisoner. Maybe it had sucked him into the depths of hell through one of those toilets that you never really wanted to sit down on. Maybe…maybe it was drawing the life out of him while Dean waited in his car and sat on his thumbs. The scenarios his racing mind came up with really were endless.

Checking the parking lot one more time for punk car thieves or wannabe joyriders, Dean locked the Impala and raced towards the thick steel door with the crooked male stick figure sign hanging off it. After using all his strength to heave the bolted doorknob and being completely unsuccessful in getting it open, Dean began pounding on the dented metal and shouting against it.

“Sam! Sammy! You open this door up right now! Don’t make me kick it in, because I will! I’ll get the rifle out of the trunk and blow rock salt holes all over it if you don’t open up this second! I know you can hear me, you little—”

The door lurched and Dean stumbled into a thoroughly bewildered Sam’s chest.

“What the hell, man? What is your problem? First you won’t let me pee, and now you threaten to break down the bathroom door? What are you, the fucking pissing police?” Sam stared at Dean like he wasn’t quite sure whether he should be afraid of him or punch him in the face.

“Me? Nothing is wrong with me! What the hell were you doing in here for so long? I thought you’d been sucked into another astral plane or something!” Dean jabbed an accusing finger towards Sam.

“What? Dean, I was going to the bathroom. I’m sorry that not all of us can urinate in under 20 seconds like you can.” Sam glared at him defiantly, and just as Dean was starting to feel like a Grade A ass he noticed a pale stain on Sam’s jeans. After staring at it for what was probably an unnecessarily long amount of time, Sam began shifting around awkwardly and clearing his throat.

“What?”

Dean was still looking at the stain. “Dude, if you needed some help with that, all you had to do was ask.” Sam quickly moved his eyes away from Dean and tried to shove past him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” Dean managed to wedge himself between Sam and the door. Getting increasingly more agitated, Sam tried to reach around him to get at the handle. Taking advantage of his distraction, Dean rubbed his hand lightly over the front of Sam’s jeans.

“You’re still hard. I interrupted you.” Dean tried very hard not to chuckle. Sam flinched and moved to pull away, but Dean caught his arm. “That was mighty rude of me, wasn’t it?”

Under the blush that covered his entire face, Sam whispered, “Shut up.”

Removing his hand from Sam’s crotch—much to his brother’s relief—Dean snaked it behind his own back and twisted the bolt closed. At the sound of the ominous click, Sam froze.

“Dean, what are you doing? What about the Impala? Are you just going to leave it out there? It could get stolen this time of night; there are people just waiting to strip it down for parts, you know.” Sam’s excuses rung weak, but Dean still gritted his teeth at the thought of those butchers getting hold of his sweetheart.

“The Impala can wait.” The words left a bitter aftertaste in Dean’s mouth. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to do ever since you convinced me that I shouldn’t be dead.” Edging Sam back into the wall, Dean nipped at his neck. He knew just how much pressure to apply, just where to use teeth. He knew everything that drove Sammy crazy. Smiling as he sucked on his earlobe, Dean felt Sam squirm in his arms.

“Dean, no. Dean, we’re at a rest stop. Do you have any idea the kind of bacteria that breeds in places like this? And what if someone else comes and needs to use the bathroom?” Despite his protesting tone, Sam’s hands found their fumbling way underneath Dean’s shirt and ran hesitantly up and down his spine.

“Then they can pee in the woods.” Dean was too busy working through the layers of clothing that his brother insisted on wearing to come up with a better answer. “Besides, haven’t you ever had a public sex fantasy?”

“Um…ah…” Sam panted softly as Dean traced over his chest with rough fingertips. “No, not really…”

“Heh,” Dean pinched at a nipple. “You’re such a dork.”

Sam writhed against the wall and Dean felt his shaggy hair tickling his cheek. He pulled back slightly and looked into those pleading, puppy-dog eyes that he loved more than anything—even his gorgeous baby outside—though he would never, ever admit that out loud.

“About what Dad said to me before he died…” Sam’s shimmering eyes clouded.

“Yeah?”

Dean leaned in until he was only a breath away from Sam’s lips. He could feel the heat and desire and fear radiating off his baby brother’s body.

“I’ll tell you when we finish. Promise.”

“I believe you…” Dean could hardly hear Sam as he pushed forward and kissed him brutally, feeling for the first time since the car wreck that he really was still alive.


End file.
